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djarincore · 1 day

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A Bard's Tale

SUMMARY: When you proposition Halsin at the Grove party, you're almost shocked he agrees. Now, if only you could sneak away from your companions... WC: 3.9k

PAIRING: Halsin x f!reader

TAGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, bard!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected PIV

A/N: just some filthy smut Gale, my beloved, look away inspired by a book in the game and my head canon that the gang has a bookclub <3 banner by @/cafekitsune

You were used to being stared at—such was life as a performing bard—but never with so much… desire.

A numbing warmth blossomed across your neck and crept toward your cheeks, hairs stood on end. You knew exactly whose gaze fell over your body and tried pushing down a sudden shiver with a gulp of wine. The nearly stale flavor washed down your throat but didn’t take away the buzzing feeling deep in your gut.

Fireworks colored the sky above in a pop of brilliant glittering lights. Gale and Rolan were locked in a battle of wizard hubris over who could conjure up the bigger and brighter show for the crowd of awestruck children. You were certain if the show got any bigger or brighter, you’d have to be putting out fires and patching up burns by the end of the night.

“He’s staring again,” Astarion groaned, lips pulling up into a sneer and revealing the edge of razor-sharp fangs. His red glare fell over the edge of his silver goblet as he took a sip of cheap wine.

You dared to follow his gaze toward the large elf standing across the clearing, surrounded by rowdy celebrating tieflings. The two of you locked eyes—firelight danced over warm hazel eyes.

Halsin sent you a brief grin as if he hadn’t been caught staring, before returning to his conversation with the tiefling, Zevlor, in front of him.

When your party first learned the Archdruid Halsin had been taken by a bunch of goblins, you figured the man you’d find would be ancient, withering, and most of all, not attractive. Lo and behold, your party was in for a big surprise after freeing a helpless bear that shifted into a towering, broad elf before your eyes.

It was the talk of camp for the next few days as you cleared out the goblin camp. It was clear all of your companions held some interest in the druid, whether out of curiosity or… lust.

Tonight, you’ve been working up the courage to speak with him, drinking yourself dizzy with your companions and hoping it would give you the strength to approach him. You’ve flirted and had quick meaningless dalliances with faceless people who didn’t matter the next morning, but something made you nervous when it came to Halsin. He was wiser and more mature than anyone you've known in your short life.

“Gods, he looks like he wants to devour you.”

You quickly returned your gaze to Astarion, a quick retort forming on your lips. You snorted, “And you don’t?”

You allowed the vampire to indulge in your blood every once in a while but never took him up on his other advances as much as he offered. You never felt quite comfortable looking into the empty red stare that came along with those offers. Simple banter every once in a while didn’t hurt though.

“If you’d like, that can be arranged,” he countered, ever quick to throw on that charming facade, and moved closer. The cold emanating off his undead figure cooled the fire dancing along your skin.

“Enough of that,” Shadowheart huffed, rolling her eyes as she poured more sanguine liquid into her goblet—her third cup of the night. She was remarkably more relaxed and fun for a Sharran with wine flowing through her system.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. The three of us can have plenty of fun together if you’d like.”

“Pass,” she said dryly, offering a hard shove to his shoulder instead.

You grinned as the two began to squabble with petty remarks and plenty of eye rolls. You took the opportunity to slip away for a moment of quiet.

You didn’t dislike your new, unexpected companions, in fact, you considered them friends after working together to defeat an encampment of goblins. Trust was earned and alliances forged but you weren’t used to your silently elected position as leader.

You were a bard for Gods’ sake! What knowledge did you possess of leading other than leading others in song? There were certainly more qualified individuals in your ragtag group, but somehow they trusted in your leadership and you weren’t about to let them down, not when so much depended on it. Sometimes it weighed on your shoulders; for every cut and bruise they received, somehow you felt you were to blame.

The celebration was still lively, bottles were still being poured, and laughter and song danced through the air. And still… trepidation, and anticipation for the uncertain future ahead, tainted the air.

The tieflings still had a long journey to Baldur’s Gate, and you and your companions had a cure to find. There was no telling any of you would make it past this night unscathed by the future ahead, but dwelling on the future would get you nowhere.

You breathed the rich, lively air and allowed a smile to settle on your face. This adventure would make a great tale if you survived. You could see it now—patrons gathered around you at the bar as you regaled them with the highs and lows of your heroic adventure, the friends and enemies you made along the way. And, if you were lucky, a lover by your side.

Speaking of—you glanced toward Halsin once again to find him alone and lingering by the tall grass, observing the party. His arms were crossed, yet the fondness of which he observed the festivities made him seem approachable. You drew in a deep breath and stepped toward him. His eyes found yours as you drew closer.

“You should be celebrating, not keeping an old druid like me company.”

You hoped that wasn't his attempt at shooing you away. “I am celebrating—with you.”

He hummed low, a small smile forming as he gazed down at you. Something unspoken lingered behind his amused expression, raw and unfiltered.

You tilted your head and brushed aside the feelings bubbling up in your stomach, the warmth rising across your cheeks. You cleared your throat, feeling the warmth from before returning to your cheeks, “So, where's your wine? There's plenty around. I think Mol has some stored away too.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. You’d almost think it was bashful. “I fear you do not want to see me drunk.”

You tilted your head and leaned in. What could an archdruid have to be embarrassed about? “Now I have to see.”

“Trust me, the stuff goes right to my head. Before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on.”

You gaped, and in an overly exasperated voice said, “But love and song are my specialty!”

You were more than eager to hear declarations of love. Targeted at you, preferably.

“Maybe I can inspire you another time then.”

“Tonight?” You could almost taste the wine-fueled invitation. Sweet and tempting, a dangerous mix.

Halsin said nothing for a moment and you were certain he would refuse, probably thinking of how to let you down easily. Your stomach churned and your muscles tensed as you waited for any sign of rejection.

But, to your surprise, he nodded and rested a hand on your arm with a gentle squeeze. The feeling of his fingers against your skin shot a shiver through your body.

“Tonight.”

You blinked—once, twice. Disbelief and a mix of excitement stirred in your chest.

The rest of the celebrations passed in a blur of grateful tieflings approaching you with their thanks and relentless teasing from Shadowheart and Astarion. When the tieflings packed up and went on their way, headed for Baldur’s Gate, your party wished them well and settled in for the night.

You cast quick but unsubtle glances between the campfire and Halsin as you poked at the fire. He was setting up his tent between Wyll’s and Laezel’s.

You wondered when the promise of ‘tonight’ would come. Would he call upon you when the others were asleep? Would it be a simple look over the campfire, a nod of the head?

A hand on the small of your back, leading you into the woods. It would eventually slip lower, caressing your behind and pulling you flush against his solid chest. His lips would descend on yours with a hungry, desperate fervor, devouring any moans that escaped. Your hips flush with his, grinding–

“Man, what a night,” Karlach exclaimed as she threw herself against her bedroll by the fire.

Your eyes snapped from the fire to her, pushing your previous thoughts away. You took in a deep breath and felt it fill your lungs to chase away the heat. Your stomach twisted into knots.

She tucked her arms behind her head but sprung right up again, almost startling you. “Oh, I almost forgot! Check out what I found at the Grove.”

She snatched her pack, resting at the foot of her bedroll, and dug around until she presented you with a thin, crudely bound book. The corner was singed from the heat of her fingertips, but you could read the handwritten title across the cover in golden lettering—Shadow’s Kiss vol. 4 written by Roan Featherway.

When you flipped open the cover, you found most of the pages ripped out. The last chapter and epilogue were all that was left.

You briefly wondered if Karlach looked before taking it, but she probably hadn't. She admittedly hadn't read since primary, much to Gale’s horror.

You weren't entirely sure what the book was about after skimming the first page—something about two lovers. Luckily, you weren't too picky about your choice of literature.

“Can you read it tonight?” She stared at you with a wide smile. The flames in her hair flared, a key sign she was growing excited.

When the party wasn't slaying goblins, you found they enjoyed listening to you read, something to do with being a bard and mimicking voices. So, they took to collecting lost books in ruined of villages or anywhere else they could get their hands on one.

You glanced over to Halsin. He was pulling a blanket from his pack and setting it in his tent.

Would you still have time to sneak off later?

Gale appeared over your shoulder, squinting at the title of the novel. “Oh, another book? Hm, I'm unfamiliar with this one. Perhaps we should be starting this series in order.”

He settled down on his bedroll across from you with crossed legs.

“I'm sure our dear bard can spin up an interesting tale to fill in the gaps,” Wyll cut in, cradling a cup of wine and taking a seat by the fire.

You sucked in an exasperated breath when you saw Astarion and Shadowheart saunter up to the fire and take their places on either side of Karlach. There was no way you'd be able to make an excuse to slip away with Halsin without their relentless teasing.

You succumbed to Karlach’s request and opened up the book, clearing your throat.

“In the ashes of that ruined village, the pair shared a kiss, all tongue and teeth. Sweat and heat passed between the two bodies as they-”

Gods, was this really the story? You glanced up to your companions who seemed to look on with rapt attention. In the corner of your eye, you noticed a large figure settle down on a log.

“Don't stop on my account,” Halsin said, waving his hand to allow you to continue.

You nodded and dipped back into the novel. You were glad he didn't seem bothered that the two of you would have to wait a little longer. Though, you weren't sure how you could read a book like this and not think of tonight.

“-pulled one another closer, as if clinging to the last bit of hope either of them had left. Balsin,” you faltered over the name, mouth agape over the next word. That couldn't be a coincidence.

You and the rest of your companions sent a curious look at Halsin, who sat on the log with an amused smile.

“Any relation?” You asked, one brow raised.

“Not at all. It was supposed to be a historical account.”

The group chuckled to themselves as you continued the story. It became increasingly raunchy, taking a turn toward the expected. Clothes tossed away, bodies slick with sweat, tongues clashing.

Your companions listened on, clinging to every filthy word that dripped from your mouth. Gale was pink in the face, but remained seated on his bed roll with averted eyes. Karlach’s flames sparked blue every once in a while. Shadowheart and Astarion wore sly smiles as the story continued. Wyll was the most relaxed with his wine, quietly listening on. Even Lae’zel, sitting at her tent, stopped polishing her sword to listen.

The story was just another typical tavern tale, nothing special or out of the ordinary for you to read aloud, except to have Halsin audience to it, and practically in it, was a different story.

You couldn't help but imagine this Balsin fellow as Halsin. The descriptions of this main character holding his lover, kissing her, touching her—it sent a throbbing between your legs.

Every other sentence had you peering over the book at him, wondering if he was growing uncomfortable or embarrassed, but no such expression was evident on his face. Instead, he watched you, your lips, with a familiar hunger.

“Balsin caressed her bare skin. ‘Selune must have carved you from the stars herself.’ The-”

Shadowheart scoffed, cutting off your sentence. You paused to catch her rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me that's actually flattering.”

“Oh, it is. I've used it quite a few times,” Astarion said.

“You must be a bad flirt then,” Wyll teased, shoving his shoulder into Astarion’s.

The party devolved into a petty squabble of flirting practices and the best pick-up lines after. On any other day, you would jump into the fray with your favorite lines, but you were far more curious about something, someone, else.

You caught Halsin's back retreating into the woods, fists clenched with tense shoulders. You frowned, shutting the book.

Your companions’ attention was elsewhere at the moment, so you stood, leaving the book behind, and snuck away.

You wandered through the forest path you’ve taken many times before after long, grueling days of battle, and found the river bank.

You saw the reflection of the moon and stars in the river, but no Halsin.

A minute of your eyes scouring the water and the rustle of brush caught your attention a little too late. Clamorous, heavy steps advanced behind you. When you turned and caught a brief look of brown fur, it collided with you to the ground.

Hot and heavy puffs of air fanned across your face. Fur brushed across your exposed arms. A worg? A goblin ambush?

You opened your eyes to face the creature, prepared to scream for help, only to find it was not a worg but a bear—a familiar bear.

You gasped, “Halsin?”

A ring of gold circled the bear’s irises and a flash of white overtook your vision. You shielded your eyes until the light faded. When you removed your hand, you were met with a very naked Halsin above you.

His thick forearms rested beside your head, keeping his weight off you and trapping you between them. “Forgive me,” he apologized. “I was hoping this would not happen.”

You stammered, forcing your eyes to focus on his face and not wander down to his chest, “What? Tackling me to the ground?”

“I was hoping I could control my bear form.” Halsin pushed himself off the ground, offering you a hand up.

You attempted to narrow your focus on his outstretched hand that was hovering in front of his waist. But you couldn't help the accidental slip of your gaze and—Oh Gods, he was massive.

You hoped he didn't notice your eyes didn't bulge out of your skull as you took his hand. If he did, he said nothing and had no reaction as he hauled you back up to your feet.

“What do you mean by control?”

“Sometimes my desire grows so strong it's hard to hold myself back from changing forms.”

“Desire?” You repeated absently, the rest of his words floating over your head. You looked over the red tattoo that curved over his cheek before settling on his pink lips. There was something like desire building in your chest or something fiercer, hungry.

You inched forward, ghosting your fingers over the soft curve of his belly, not taking your eyes off his lips. You wet your own, wondering when you'll finally get a taste. He probably tasted of berries and rich honey.

“Yes, hearing you read that book, I could hardly stay in control, so I left.” Halsin’s voice was low, breathy, almost as if he was still trying to hold himself back. He grasped your wrist, thumb gliding over your pulse. “I hope you aren't frightened by me.”

You could have gawked. Frightened? He was so turned on by you, he turned into a bear. You couldn't say that about any previous lovers. “Absolutely not. I still want you, Halsin.”

There was a flash of relief that bled into a smile. “Come here.”

Halsin tugged your wrist, colliding your bodies, and kissed you. He was so warm, his lips soft, but his kiss was passionate, needy. He wanted to devour you. A hand cupped your neck, pulling you impossibly close, melting you against him.

You could barely get a breath in without pressing your hand against his chest. As you took in the night air, Halsin took to your neck, grazing teeth over your skin like you were a meal he wanted to sink his teeth into.

He tugged at your shirt and you lifted your arms to help him get it off so your chest was just as bare as his. “You’re breathtaking,” he rasped as his lips dipped below your collarbone. He murmured more praises as he made his way down your chest.

Your head fell back with a sigh escaping you, heat thruming through your body. Your hands ran through the length of his hair, gripping the locks between curled fingers.

Halsin nipped and sucked at your skin. Your body was giving into his touch, legs growing weak. Before you could stumble, Halsin's hands grasped the meat of your thigh and lifted you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, securing yourself against his front. You shifted your hips to run yourself along his growing erection.

Halsin moaned as he moved to a tree, pressing you against the rough bark. His hands roamed your skin, brushing over your breasts, grazing your nipples to peaks.

He slipped down to his knees, kissing your stomach and tugging down your pants. The

Halsin caressed your thighs. “Rest your legs over my shoulders.”

“Won't I be too heavy?”

“Let me worship your body the way it was made for.”

Your jaw almost dropped at his words, but empowered, you hooked your legs over his shoulders.

Halsin was an attentive, passionate lover. He kissed your abdomen and down to your clit, like a gentle lover would. For a man who spent much of his time as a bear and so large, he was surprisingly gentle.

Your fingers returned to his hair, intertwining through the locks, as you shuddered. You were afraid of falling, but his strong grip on your backside held you steady. You were safe in his hands.

His tongue lavished you, parting your folds delicately like he was dipping in to taste a pot of honey. Just a taste was not enough as he soon delved deeper into your dripping heat.

“So sweet,” he murmured between those slow laps at your folds. He brought you closer, hungrier now that he had a taste.

Your head rested against the tree trunk and dared to let a moan escape you. Surely your companions were still too busy arguing amongst themselves to hear the lewd sounds slipping between the trees. Even if they could hear, you weren't sure you'd care. The feeling of Halsin’s skilled tongue far outweighed the embarrassment of being caught.

Your thighs clenched around his head as your hips bucked into his mouth. The peak of your climax came with a pitched cry, your body tensing and releasing all at once.

Halsin didn't stop devouring you, tasting every drop of your release with a desperate tongue.

You tugged at his hair when it all felt too much, when the pleasure turned to a burn at every lap against your sensitive clit. Halsin allowed himself to be pulled from you. He looked up at you, mouth wet with your juices, with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Tired?” His voice was teasing. His tongue darted out to catch your arousal smeared across his lower lip as he grined.

You almost scoffed. “Hardly. Is that all you've got?”

Halsin slipped out under you and swept you into another kiss, where you could still taste yourself on his lips. He pulled away and swiped his thumb over your glistening lips. “Trust me—you will not get much sleep tonight.”

The two of you met the cold grassy floor once again with you splayed on your back and Halsin hovering over you. You smiled up at him, inviting his down for another kiss which he accepted.

Lips clashed with heat and passion as two thick fingers pushed into your slick heat. You shuddered and arched into him as he buried them to the knuckle. He worked you open, spreading and stretching you out to prepare you for his cock. And judging by what you’d seen, it was much needed.

He turned you on to your stomach, easing his fingers out of you. The grass tickled between your fingers as you arched your back, displaying yourself for him like a ready mate. He gripped your hips, and you felt him, thick and warm, against your ass.

“I'll be gentle,” he promised.

“Don't be,” you sighed, grinding against him. You wanted him to lose himself in you. You wanted the calm and composed arch druid completely feral, fucking deep into you until the dawn forced your bodies apart.

When the tip of his cock notched at your entrance, you bit your lip.

He pushed in with a stretch. You opened around him and he slid into you with little resistance, snug in your warmth. You felt so, so full and when he pulled out, teasing your entrance again before thrusting back in, your mouth dropped open, and you moaned.

“So good,” he praised with his words slipping off into a low groan like he was biting something back. “Are you alright?”

You nodded in response and pushed yourself against him. He was gentle, true to his word, infuriatingly so.

“I don't want you to hold back,” you demanded.

His fingers dug into your skin, marking the tender flesh with cresent shapes. With another sharp thrust, you nearly feel forward into the grass. Halsin’s lips pulled close to your ear. “Are you sure that's what you want?”

“Forget your control and fuck me.”

No longer restrained, Halsin gave you exactly what you craved—hips snapping against you with no room for you to breathe.

You shuddered and cried out, ached and moaned. Even the night air couldn't cool the heat between your slick bodies. Your orgasm hit you hard, leaving you limp and useless against his heavy thrusts.

Halsin lifted your body against his chest and continued using you. One orgasm after the other.

You just hoped you'd still have your voice by sunrise.

#halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin smut #bg3 smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 smut #halsin fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 headcanons #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #my works

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lovelybrooke · 3 days

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how would the bg3 companions react if reader becomes worried about going home? they’ve obviously grown and changed as a person and their family and friends wouldn’t believe their explanations on why. i imagine the thought of going home and having to face that while acclimatising back to modern life after everything they’ve been through would feel pretty daunting & they won’t have anyone to talk about their traumatic experiences without being judged. so would the companions use that doubt in order to convince them that they are better off forgetting about going home and staying in faerun?

Honestly I think it makes sense for the reader to have a lot of fear around going home. I forget canonically how long their journey is, I think some characters mention it in the epilogue, but no matter how long, spending months in another world leaves a mark on you. Imagine going from slaying monsters and watching people perform magic to having to go back to your 9 to 5. Reader would probably worry about people asking where they've been, what happened to them, all that.

The companions would definitely use this fear against reader, especially as time goes on. Like in the beginning, the characters are more weary of reader, but as time goes on they grow closer to them and fear loosing them. So when they realize that you are also scared of leaving, they feed into that fear. I think there is also a lot of guilt tripping going on as well, reminding you that even though the Netherbrain is dead, the people of Baldur's Gate still need someone to protect them. You are there hero, it would look bad to abandon them now.

They keep pressuring you to stay just a little while longer, Gale keeps telling you that he hasn't discovered a way to get you home, but if you just give him a few more weeks, he'll definitely find something. Eventually, months past and you haven't thought about going home in a while, not because you don't want to leave, but whenever you so much as mention it, you're reminded thoroughly that there is nothing they can do, so you should just forget about it.

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #soft yandere #yandere baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 help #yandere bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3

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easy-there-leftovers · 3 days

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Can be read as a continuation to my previous work about Gale, but can also be read independently.

Today had been a tiring day, especially for their de-facto leader, Gale thinks. The situation at the goblin village could have turned for the worse had you not smooth talked your way through.

And yet you’ve gone back to dueling the fire with your eyes again, he notes. However unlike last time, he chooses to stay put in his own corner of the camp.

Given his last attempt at light but stimulating conversation, he’s mostly sure that he will never do such a thing ever again. Lest he wants to feel the less than comfortable stares of everyone awake when he returns to his tent.

Alone and unaccompanied.

Doesn’t mean that he can’t observe you from here though. While he should be reading up on a rather interesting book he picked up from today’s skirmish, the pages haven’t been graced with his eyes quite nearly as much as your form.

Naturally, he doesn’t realize this until something, or rather someone, catches his attention.

Astarion.

Usually not one to leave his own comfortable area of the camp, it was surprising to see him choose to settle in at a bedroom nearer the fire.

To approach you in such a manner. Almost as if you were familiar with another.

“Which couldn’t be since you would have only met one another after the crash,” he reasons.

He makes a comment from his lax position on his bedroll. Opens the conversation with you the same way that he’s certain he did a few nights ago, and yet the response couldn’t be more different.

The action draws what looks to be an exasperated sigh from you, but Gale notices your eyes soften at the elf’s remark. You don’t turn to face him, but still respond while focusing on the camp’s light.

Astarion stands to be nearer to you, perhaps trying to convince you of something, as he slings an arm around your shoulder. Face, nearing yours. The thumb of his slung-over hand seemingly grazing the skin of your exposed collarbone, uncovered by the looser strings of your shirt.

Gale feels his jaw slacken as he watches this very scene unfold before him. The book, long forgotten as the strength in his arm wanes, almost dropping it. He feels his eyes bug out of his skull when he sees you place your hand on top the pale fellow’s in what he can only assume is an affectionate gesture.

He’ll admit, perhaps he wasn’t paying attention to you earlier in the days you reunited. With the way you were avoiding him, it seemed like you wanted him to forget you existed or pretend like you didn’t know each other.

But how could he?

How could he when you inspired him so?

How could he when your wit and creativity showed him more ways the weave could be practiced?

How could he when he knew that all your friends had always been more like Aatarion’s type, and that you’ve always seemed to avoid his?

He supposed he shouldn’t be be surprised then, if he claims to know you so well. It was inevitable that you would warm up to the elf so quickly. Alike in charm and nerve.

And if you still haven’t warmed up to the wizard in the years of study you shared, he doubts you ever will.

Ah, but where will all this conjecture get him? He’s still dealing with the loss of Mystra’s favor and it’s vicious consequences. What use would it be to watch like this?

He takes one last look at your joined hands before he sees you respond and heads in to his tent. Perhaps a bit of rest will help temper whatever wave of emotions it is that washes over him.

“Astarion.” You warn with your warmer hand atop his.

“Hm?”

You turn your head to look at him and you’re greeted by that self-aggrandizing smirk that always curls up on his face.

The sight makes you sigh. No answer to his earlier question will get you out of this.

Tricky bastard.

“Your fingers are cold.” He clicks his tongue at that, but removes himself from your form anyway. A catty, “you’re no fun” leaving his lips as he distances himself from you.

He smiles anyway and tilts his head to the side. Standing to rest all his weight on one leg, and waves you off with one hand.

“I’ll see you later, I’m sure.” You shakes your head at that and turn to leave.

“Good night Astarion.”

“Sweet dreams, dear mage.”

He’s convinced you enough to try.

#bg3 x reader #not proofread #I’m going to sleep now #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #Gale of Waterdeep #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale bg3 #bg3 gale

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 day

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Mess.

Pairing: Astarion x oc. genderfluid tav, he/him pronouns.

Genre and warnings: Smut, fluff, trauma talk, body worship.

words: 2k? more? idk

AN: my therapist told me to post everything i finished so here i am

Astarion tugged Lynn with him, despite hating the disaster that his tent was, he promised he'd open up to him, and that included his personal mess. "I apologize for.. what this is" Astarion blushed ever so slightly. "I understand if you don't-" Lynn stopped him, uncaring for the blood jars forgotten in the corner or the ragged baby blanket he kept on top of his bedroll.

"Astarion, I don't care" Lynn smiled tenderly. "My tent isn't any better" He admitted. He was good at hiding what he didn't want anyone to see, and that included his mess of mementos and the fewest belongings he had. "I don't care as long as I can hold you" Lynn gently squeezed Astarion's hand, tugging him towards the bedroll. It was not particularly big, it barely fit the two as they laid close, looking at each other.

They started slowly, with their foreheads pressed together and their hands intertwined. "May I?" Astarion shyly raised Lynn's hand to his lips, while he earn a nod from the changeling, a soft smile curled on his lips as Astarion kissed each knuckle delicately, as if Lynn was made of porcelain.

Lynn couldn't hold back the blush, as Astarion smiled back at him. "May I?" Lynn asked softly, just inches away from his lips. At Astarion's agreement, Lynn leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Astarion’s temple. Astarion huffed delicately, taken aback. He didn’t expect Lynn to go for his forehead, he was ready to taste his lips, he missed those lips.

It was such a pure moment for the two, their hearts hammering in their chest as they delicately caressed the other, slowly daring to push each other's boundaries and come closer.

They had promised to heal together, to overcome their nightmares, and slowly, they were making it one caress at a time.

“Let me be your mirror again” Lynn gently wrapped his arms around Astarion’s frame, taking him in his embrace, as he noticed the impatience in Astarion’s movements. They ached so much for each other that taking it slow was godsdamned hard.

“Are you going to compliment my ears again?” He rolled his eyes playfully. As much as he wanted to admit the contrary, he had appreciated the way Lynn had complimented those small details, no one ever did, and it felt.. nice.

“I might” He laughed softly. “They look very bitable if you ask me” He leans closer, his breath caressing the tip of his ear, making Astarion shiver under the hot gust.

“Please..” Astarion almost moaned as he curled against Lynn’s chest, as if he tried to hide.

“Please what? Little love” Lynn cooed before kissing his temple.

“Don’t bite my ear, they are sensitive” Astarion quipped softly, glad his cheeks were out of sight, that strangled moan had been enough to reveal.

“I shall not bite them, I promise” The changeling couldn’t help but cradle the man closer, making sure they were both tucked snugly in the bedroll.

“But they are pretty, I don’t know how to explain it” He mumbled as one of his hands gently lifted his chin. “Your eyes though” He hesitated looking for the proper words. There was something about them that made it hard to describe, they were like pools of emotions and Lynn feared Astarion didn’t know how much they reflected.

“What, are they ugly?” Astarion raised an eyebrow both confused and scared Lynn might not like the crimson shade that tinted his iris. He had always been confident, mindless of other’s opinions, yet when it came to Lynn it was different.

“No, absolutely not” He murmured. “They are mesmerizing, and they reveal much more than what you think”

“You think so?”

“Mhmh” Lynn nodded as he caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead again, stealing a little hum of satisfaction from Astarion that was slowly melting in the grasp again. “Sometimes, I could tell when your confidence would falter” He admitted. “Your eyes would tell me if I was talking to you, or to you”

“So obvious uh?” He sighed, not entirely defeated. With Lynn he felt as if those moments where his persona would slip, were not an error, it was natural- between the fear and the growing feelings in his stomach, to the point that now his mask his almost always tucked away when he’s alone with the changeling. He trusted him enough to be his true self, he realized.

“I don’t know, it might be that I stared at them so hard too” He said sarcastically to ease down the mood again. “But to me, they are truly a mirror to your soul” Silence dropped over the two as Lynn gently caressed his cheek, to move to his lips, tracing his lower lip. “Your lips are irresistible” He had to fight the urge to lean in and steal another kiss.

“And your cheeks” He sighed as he admired the way they started taking the almost lovely shade of pink again. “i love when you blush, they take the smallest color and you look so alive”

“Are you implying I look dead the rest of the time?” He joked, this time not hiding the blush but rather flaunt the reddish shade of his cheek.

“No” Lynn couldn't suppress his laugh. “you know what I mean.. cause you feel it too” He closed his eyes, gently brushing the tip of their noses together, followed by Astarion that closed his eyes as well.

“Your neck..” He sighed as he gently cradled Astarion's head, tilting it to the side and exposing his supple neck as if he was the one about to bite. “I wish I could kiss it all day” He left an open mouthed kiss on the exposed skin, and another where his shoulder met his neck. “Your chest doesn’t rise, but it isn’t any less calming” He whispered under his breath, aching to lower himself and kiss his sternum, yet resisting for another moment.

“Your arms” He gently traced the bicep barely accentuated by their position. “You are not that strong, but you hold me so tight sometimes I melt.” He admitted as he brought one of his hands to his mouth. “And your hands” He groaned satisfied just at the look. “They fit so nicely in mine” He kissed the back.

“So cliche” Astarion blushed and giggled as one cute fang was exposed from his lips.

“I might be but they grasp so nicely at my hips, and they cup perfectly my cheek, I might just say they were made for me” He cooed as he kissed each fingertip softly.

“You are going to make me cringe at this rate” Astarion teased with the gentlest smile as he looked away for a moment.

“And yet you are blushing and smiling, If I didn’t know any better..” Lynn trailed off before being stopped by Astarion. “Don’t say it”

“Okay little love, I won’t” Lynn laughed. “But let me just say, right now you are sitting perfectly in my arms, and maybe I don’t want you to ever leave my grasp”

“Lucky for you I don’t want to move from here” Astarion leaned forward to kiss the tip of Lynn’s nose.

They laid like that for what felt eternity, as they grazed and kissed each other skin with fleeting and gentle lips, murmuring sweet nothings as they enjoyed the calm of the night. Lynn didn’t care whether in the morning he was going to regret not resting, but being so close to Astarion, being touched so softly was worth every sleepless second spent kissing. It was almost intoxicating, the grasps and gasps had him high on the feeling.

It was moments later that Lynn shivered. Astarion's finger grazed over his hip instantly having his hands tightened it's grip on Astarion's. "Everything okay, darling?" He asked tenderly as he moved his hand to Lynn's cheek, gently tracing the swell of his cheek.

Lynn nodded as a single tear rand down the peachy skin. "Hips are.. one of my trigger areas, I haven't been touched so softly there ever” He had told Astarion about this past, the four years of confinement and what they made of him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to share the details, where touch would feel like scorching pain and when love would turn to agony.

Astarion moved closer, his body flush against Lynn's, his body heat enveloping Astarion tenderly. The elf's hand reached for Lynn's cheek again, catching the rolling tear with his thumb. "I understand" Astarion pressed his forehead against Lynn's, eyes closed, just their breath mixing in the middle as they held each other. He did understand cause for him it was his scars, he had been terrified of having them touched, sometimes just the thought would make him spiral. He had understood how this worked. “Do you want me to stop” He asked. “We can stop at any moment”

“No, don’t” Lynn urged. “I want you closer, I need you closer” He admitted, this time he was the one blushing

Astarion gently grasped at Lynn's hips again, as he pulled him in a slow and tender kiss, gasping for air whenever they had the chance. Their hands could barely keep in one spot as Astarion's kiss would be dragged back in from Lynn's yearning ones. Astarion gently pushed Lynn down on his back, straddling and towering over the other as he navigated his hands under the changeling's shirt, while his erection was impossible to hide.

Astarion wanted to try, he had missed the way Lynn had wrapped around him, the way Lynn would arch his back, or the way his mouth repeated his name like a plea. He has missed how Lynn- big and buff as he was- would beg and melt under Astarion.

Lynn sighed softly as he allowed Astarion to guide him, wrapping his legs around his hips. "Lynn..' Astarion murmured as they were both breathless and aching.

Gently cupping his cheek and tracing his jaw with his lips.. "divine" He rasped before leaving an open mouthed kiss on his neck .

"I-" Lynn gasped, warmth spreading in his stomach and a yearning feeling pooling in his chest. He needed Astarion closer, his hands on his body, his flesh burning with his heat. Astarion knew from the way Lynn desperately clung to him, pleaded for his lips and how he gasped whenever Astarion would remove another layer of Lynn's clothes. "Please.." Lynn said hoarsely, trembling under him, their naked skin fiery as they kissed.

“Are you sure?” Astarion asked as he kissed his forehead tenderly. “We don't have to do anything if you don't want to” Astarion reassured him. It was ironic how he was the one asking, though appreciated.

“Do you want to do this?” Lynn asked back, tangling his hand with Astarion's.

“My love, can you feel this?” Astarion purred as his hips pressed against Lynn’s tight ring, his hard cock stealing a lewd moan from Lynn's lips. “It says it all” He leaned forward, tracing Lynn's neck with kisses, bites and licks, worshipping his flesh agonizingly slow as Lynn's arms wrapped around Astarion.

The elf reached for the grease bottle that was in his pack, and poured abundantly the liquid on his palm.

“I want you to tell me if I need to stop” Astarion whispered as he quickly stroked himself, coating his length in the substance while he looked for Lynn's eyes.

“I promise” Lynn offered him a small, shy smile as Astarion's clean hand linked with Lynn's, both for support and as a reminder that they could hold on to each other. They had practiced a lot, small things to keep each other in the loop, like holding hands, looking for each other's eyes, like pressing their foreheads together to stay closer.

Astarion lowered again, catching his lips tenderly as he lifted Lynn's legs to help him angle, while the changeling's cheeks flushed deeply.

"I love you" Lynn murmured against Astarion's lips as he closed his eyes while Astarion pressed his forehead against Lynn’s. He slowly pushed himself past his rim with a gasp as Lynn fisted the blanket both in pain and ecstasy. “I love you” Astarion whimpered as all his senses awoke.

Lynn was tigh, clenching around him like madness as his cock was already leaking desperately on his stomach.

"So good for me" Astarion cooed instantly having Lynn blushing and moaning under him. "And so breathtaking" He rasped before he leaned to catch his lips in a kiss again and again. Astarion could feel his body cursing with goosebumps, as he took a moment to focus, squeezing Lynn's hand softly. Lynn shied under Astarion's eyes, his cheeks flushing even more and more as Astarion started moving.

Astarion swore he saw the cosmos as he sunk in the warmth, as Lynn became one with him. The changeling's gasps reminded him he was free, that he was not with one of his victims, but rather with him that had done so much for him.

He had fallen for Lynn, and so much had changed. Firstly he had admitted his- awfully played- plan, and Lynn had forgiven him. Lynn had held his hand while walking down the halls of Cazador's palace and bathed him after they were back at the elfsong tavern and Astarion could barely function. Lynn that held him as he wept endlessly after a nightmare. Lynn had defended him from Araj, Lynn had kissed his scars.

He poured it all with his strokes, making sure they held in them the feelings that he held in his heart. And Lynn wasn't doing any less. Lynn, the man he loved so purely and deeply, was taking him and and loving him with every inch of him. They were not just fucking, they were devoting each other despite their struggles.

“Astarion, you f-feel so good” He cried out as Astarion held him in position, stretching him deliciously.

Lynn was not vocal, his whimpers though echoed in Astarion's brain endlessly as he swallowed him inch by inch.

"My Lynn" Astarion moaned as he reached forward and caressed his cheek. "My lovely lovely Lynn" He panted desperately as he made Lynn melt under his thrusts.

Lynn threw his head back as he arched under Astarion's graze, his body cursing with something new, something sweet he couldn't help but chase as Astarion lost himself in him.

"Look at me" Astarion whispered breathlessly as the slow burning passion was eating them alive. Curses, moans, the sweet sweet sound of their hips meeting and their love overtaking them.

Lynn was his and he was Lynn's, devoting their hands, lips, eyes to worshipping the other. They could read it on each other's face, on the way their eyes glistened, or their lips parted and met, or the way their muscles tensed and everything stopped for a moment. It was just them, framed in time: Astarion cradling Lynn to his chest as he stretched him and loved him, while Lynn was gasping, so full, so soft, whispering Astarion's name like a plea. They were one as they twitched, begged, cried for the other, gushed and slowly, tenderly kissed. They didn't realized tears were streaming down their faces until they came back to their senses, though still breathless, their orgasms spilled on Lynn's chest and leaking from his tight hole. Yet all they cared about was drying those tears with the palms of their hands.

“My love, you alright?” Astarion asked worried , while uncaring for his own tears as he reached for Lynn’s cheek.

“Never been better, you?” He replied weakly as he sat up just enough to tug Astarion in his lap and dry his tears softly.

“Darling I'm home” He whispered as he leaned against Lynn's naked chest.

They laid in each other's embrace, spent, still whispering the other's name as they eased down and tangled back together. The tears that were falling held in years of pain, of wounds and blood, they were the tears of two men that had lost hope, yet found respite and home in the other's care. They were the tears of relief, of love, of belonging as Astarion was resting on Lynn's chest trembling and panting.

"I love you"s under their breath were whispered as they kissed away the tears, as they cleaned each other carefully, as they held on to each other, with just a blanket draped on their bodies, as they kissed, as they caressed. "I love you"'s sworn under the protection of the moon, only for the other to hear.

Lynn pulled Astarion against his chest again once they were tucked in the bedroll, along with the thicker blanket which ended up shielding them from the cold. Lynn kissed Astarion's temple as his arms held him close and he gently ran his fingers down his skin. Astarion sighed peacefully as he curled into the embrace, making himself smaller as if hiding

“Are you okay, little love?” Lynn kissed his cheek.

“I wish we could stay like this forever” Astarion sighed, gently resting his palm on Lynn's heart. “Not a worry in sight”

“I promise you” Lynn placed one hand atop Astarion's hand on his chest. “I'll make sure that this will be our future” He murmured.

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ofstardustanddreaming · 2 days

Text

touch starvation

preference summary: what they do when they find out you're touch starved

content warnings: mentions of insecurity

fandom: baldur's gate 3

characters: dammon, rolan, zevlor

gender neutral reader

anon request

Dammon: He has no issue bringing you in for any sort of contact at any time. He's not even really touching you because he notes that you're touch starved, it's just that touch is a big part of his love language. so it's second nature for him to just be wrapping you up all the time. All of him wants to be close to you all the time. He'll always be touching your face, holding your hand, he's always glad to give you affection through physical touch. You never have to ask him for touch to be loved, it's his second nature for him to provide that affection. He is attentive to your needs, he always knows when you need touch, where you start to get clingy to him. He'll always hold you, even if he's at work, he loves having you around to provide the comfort.

Rolan: He's a bit teasing with it. He'll be giving you fleeting touches, drinking in how you lean into them. He almost wants you to beg, or take his touch for your own. But in a lot of instances, he finds that he has a hard time saying no to your eyes, he can't even wait for you to ask. He'll pull you in, really close, relishing in your tiny shudders. He also doesn't want to admit he's a tiny bit touch starved himself, and he loves when you return his touches, wanting them as much as you do. He does love hearing you squeal under his touches when you least expect them, and it does create a warmth in heart to see you trust him to lean into his touches.

Zevlor: He takes some time to notice your touch starvation, he'll have to admit. He doesn't mean to take so long to notice your starvation, the way you act just not something that he could place a name on initially. He would note how you occasionally shake when he touches you, thinking that maybe instead you weren't fond of touch at certain times. It wasn't until you were begging him to continue his touch that he noticed your touch starvation for what it was. He'll then be quick to give into your request, holding you tighter and longer when he noticed when you were getting more shaky. He will always give you he hold you when you're feeling more starved.

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feyascorner · 3 months

Note

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

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yangcherie · 5 months

Text

bathing.

𐀔 pairings: cast (astarion, gale, wyll, lae’zel, shadowheart, karlach, halsin) x female!tiefling!tav (reader).

𐀔 content warnings: suggestive, everybody is a little freak, non-consensual voyeurism, implied scent kink (gale), mentions of scars, afab anatomy. tiefling anatomy.

𐀔 sypnosis: what is a warrior to do when all their companions are peeping toms?

𐀔 author’s note: they are freaks and its been very long since i’ve written. please forgive a lady if what she’s written is unappealing.

“Can you keep it – fucking quiet?!”

Astarion whisper-yells at the entire party of people hiding within bushes and treelines, all fighting tooth and nail like rabid animals for a peek (and taste) of their ragtag, frustratingly attractive leader’s curves.

They didn’t even mean to stumble into eachother, each to their own blindly traversing through the thickets of the woods towards the nearest river. Tav simply mentioned having to retire early to take a bath (much to Gale’s dismay), and they all hungrily jumped towards the opportunity like dogs to a meatless bone, the one of the hopefully many chances they’ll see you naked, vulnerable, and shivering – even if it’s only due to the lack of warmth in the river’s streams.

It’s wrong, debauched, even. Hells, even literal devils, Karlach and Wyll, wear faces ridden with shame. Of course, they (namely Astarion and Lae’zel) poked at the others stalking as if they weren’t shamelessly doing the same.

The tension in the air was thick, each a barrel on the verge of explosion ready to wipe out the recently discovered possibility of rivalries and competition – but they couldn’t blame eachother; there was just something about you that made you so very enticing. They all thought it was incredibly silly to think only one person would want you.

“Well,” Astarion clicked his tongue in displeasure, having his private time foiled. Still, he smiled sardonically. “we’re all degenerates, it seems. We’re all looking forward to having a... fun time.”

A deep rumble came, and it surprisingly did not come from the forest ground. It was simply Halsin, all too polite and calm smiles. Astarion groaned; he was sick of this big fucking oaf with hearts for eyes and a log of wood for brains. “We are not depraved for simply yearning to admire our friend in a state of tranquil—”

“Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint in front of me!” The vampire spawn huffed, hands on his hips. “We’re all here for the same reason, we all want to see Tav fucking naked, no point in lying now!”

Tints of red and pink all rushed to everyone’s faces, and even Shadowheart was reduced to fiddling with her fingers together. Though awkward coughs ensued in the air, not a single word of denial was uttered.

Karlach is first to speak up, ever brazen. “It’s true!” She says with her signature sharp smile. “I wanted to see her tits!”

(Lae’zel and Astarion nodded approvingly to Karlach’s honesty. Halsin and Gale quietly shared their sentiments on their preference to your ass. Shadowheart and Wyll could not disagree to both.)

Amidst their busy conversation and debate regarding your body’s fine qualities, the alarmingly close and approaching noises of branches snapping and leaves crunching had rendered them silent, panicked shivers and goosebumps on their skin. With shared glances and only a few split seconds to react, the party floundered and flailed for whatever they could use to stay hidden.

“Settle down, you circus; Tav’s coming!” Wyll is the first amongst the party to silently and comically dive into a bush with Karlach, clutching their tails to avoid it rustling about in excitement. Halsin had thrown Gale and Astarion atop a tree’s thick branches before joining them. Lae’zel, disappointingly, camoflauges just well with the greenery, watching Shadowheart flounder about and settle for lying on the ground with grass over her face.

“All you filthy ska'keth.” Lae’zel hisses, letting everyone know of your now visible presence, the halting of your footsteps along the other edge of the river. “Enjoy the show.”

Across the distance, their focus had been shifted to you and now solely you.

You quietly groan, trudging towards the river you’ve been searching to no end, you set down your basket of fine oils, herbs and waxes as your armored limbs ache and practically cry for a dip in the clear stream. With no haste, you take in the cool night air, this little moment of peace, away from prying eyes you’ve fought long and hard to obtain. Sweat trickles down your throat, your tail swaying in contentment in the calm atmosphere.

Quickly deciding you’ve had enough of the crisp air, you reach towards your body to unclasp and unfasten the many buckles on your durable armor – starting with the iron top, quickly taking it off to reveal your bare, battle-worn chest and hastily discarding the metal on your legs, throwing them aside in favor of letting the cold air bite at your naked, scarred body before you go into the water; allowing your body a little moment of respite from the suffocation and heat of tight, bloody armor – even letting your tail sway around freely instead of being constricted to being stiff. A content smile creeps its way onto your face.

You lightly step your way from the sand to the edge of the water, continuing to walk until you’re trembling from the cold, until you’re hips-down in the water. A grateful sigh is pulled from your lips as you start to wade about, your hands subtly working to wash the dried blood, gore and grime off of your body and hair – using the oils and wax soaps of sweet woodruff and wine from your basket, even scrubbing your horns. A little part of you finds this normalcy almost unfamiliar, uncomfortable; it’s been quite a while you’ve taken care of yourself. Your thoughts start to drift; prior to your abduction by the Nautiloid ship, were you ever taken care of, like this? By other hands, even?

(You hope so.)

Another sigh is dragged out of you, though wearier as guilt treads within you. Just a little moment of peace, of indulgence before you go back to the dreadful task of keeping your companions and yourself alive and fighting. Just a little more time. You think you deserve it.

A silence was washed over the forest, and the party as they all beheld you and your battle-worn body. It felt almost sacred, like doing this would have them damned to the Hells and below but it was simply too captivating. Your bodice was a web and a product of war, and they were caught mesmerized – with only the dense forest and one another to witness their quickly unravelling need for you. But even then, they felt some semblance to pity. What they wouldn’t give to the gods right now to be by your side and give you some tending to.

The ridges down your back, the swaying base of your tail, the alluring image of your hips and ass teasingly disappearing into the water below, the silhouette of your horns – that untroubled smile on your lips – they all drink it in with their eyes in a fashion similar to Astarion’s throat would with your blood.

They savor it for as long as they can, before stepping out of the trance as Gale himself not-so-quietly attempted to clamber down from the rough-bark tree he was settled in, dropping down to the dirt and crushing the leaves loudly and ungracefully. Shadowheart gaped with mortification at him from the ground, everyone wishing to every god above you would have mistaken the sound as a particularly large animal, perhaps an owlbear and not a wizard along with an entire party intruding on your privacy.

“Gale! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?!”

Astarion had settled for whisper-yelling once again, pointing at him accusingly from his position atop the tree’s branches besides Halsin. Gale waved his hand, silently telling him to shut the fuck up, before urgently pointing at your discarded armor and clothing, then proceeding to give him a big smile and two thumbs up.

Surely enough to the mortification of the party, he quickly cast Misty Step over himself to travel to your area and hastily swiped (stole) anything soft – including your unattended bandages and undergarments, taking a small moment to put it to his nose and re-casting the spell to return below the tree within a few seconds. He wallowed in his pride before with a swift motion, tucked the newly acquired materia into the pockets of his robe much to the discomfort (and mild envy) of all of them.

“A man has to do and take what he can.” Gale reasoned to nobody in particular, nodding solemnly as if he just shared a piece of wisdom. He suppressed a yelp as Lae’zel then threw a rock at him, followed by another as Astarion thwacked a small branch straight to his forehead from above.

“Just leave it.” Wyll snidely commented, fighting with his life to tear away his eyes from your moonlit form, breaking out of a trance. “We should leave, go back to camp. It’d be suspicious if everyone just disappeared.”

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy, Wyll.” Astarion rolled his eyes but complied, scaling down the tree quietly, much unlike Gale earlier, who was still fiddling around his pockets with your intimates. “A party pooper, even.”

As repulsive the idea to leave you was, it was reasonable. Begrudingly, everyone quietly sat up or climbed down and quietly attempted to find their way through the dense, dark forest, sharing little observations and hushed chitchat along the way. And soon enough, the party found themselves in familiar territory, now gathering around and settling down near the campfire like they previously had before you announced your leave, as if they didn’t just claw their way through eachother earlier to see a scrap of your vulnerability.

The fire cast a warm glow over the party as they immersed in chitchat, a few (namely Shadowheart and Astarion) pestering and even offering a bargain to Gale for the underclothes he had nicked earlier. The wizard was not deterred; fair and square, he wagged his finger as if to say nuh-uh to the seething two. It was only shortly after, that you came stumbling back into camp like a lost fawn, hair and body language calm and loose but the armor remaining stiff on your body.

Karlach coughed to let the others know you had arrived from your personal time. “Soldier! You’re back!” You greeted her with a nod, before raising a brow and sweeping your eyes amongst them. Gale swallowed, placing a protective hand over the pocket that held your garments.

“You would not believe what happened.” You sighed in utter distress before plopping yourself down besides Halsin and Astarion on the log to let the fire embrace you with warmth, piquing everyone’s interest and attention with intense ease. “A wandering owlbear ate my clothes.”

They all collectively either guffawed or choked on their spit, Lae’zel scoffing and Astarion groaning amongst them. Right. Of course, you would have thought it was a fucking owlbear. Thieving owlbears that take normal, musky clothes instead of shiny armor.

“Ah, owlbears.” Gale tutted and sighed with faux sympathy, nervously chuckling and shifting to hide the lump in his pockets. “They’d eat almost anything, really.”

Astarion shot him a bewildered look, as if to ask, don’t you? You swallowed two of my books last night!

“You can borrow my clothes, for the night.” Shadowheart butted in, suddenly slotting herself behind you and setting a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You smiled at her, gazing up at her gratefully. “Thank you, Sha—”

“Well, you can have my clothes!” Karlach and Lae’zel shot up in unison.

“Sharing your old filth, I can sew them new clothes!” Astarion argued, until everyone started refuting eachother and proposing that you take theirs and whatnot.

You sighed with exasperated fondness, immensely troubled but somewhat used to it as you watch your companions pointlessly banter, having little doubt that by the end of the night, you’d have a fair share of everyone’s wardrobe into yours.

Still, you hope to the very bottom of your heart that the “owlbear” that stole your clothes had a full tummy, at least.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #gale x reader #halsin x reader #tavrem #as they say #this was fun to write #this was very lame actually #sorry but its been so so so long since ive written a fic much less published it

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writteninlunarlight-years · 1 day

Note

Can I request headcanons for Raphael, Haarlep, and Zevlor being jealous of some guy is flirting with their female s/o although she's oblivious that he's flirting with her? He's so possessive that he even took her back home to have a heated make-out while holding her close & his tail wrapped around her leg!

I love a Possessive man. I'm not even going to lie. I always get asked if I met a guy in the books or fics I read how I would handle them. In theory, I would love it; in practice, I am a sassy beach and would probably not last.

HEADCANON~~~~~~Haarlep, Zevlor, Raphael

Haarlep-

He couldn't believe the fact he was so irate at this moment. Like he has never felt more than real lust since that was what he was incarnated for. Right now, though, it was as if he was a Demon of Wrath instead of a Demon of Lust.

How could you be so damn oblivious? You just sat there smiling with that stupid, adorable, cute smile.

You were perfect inside and out, something he didn't see in many people. You were the woman of his dreams. That wasn't an easy feat for a demon that could literally bed anyone.

You were his and his alone, so why was another demon standing so close to his woman.

(Haarlep would literally be the iconic TV trope of a partner breaking a champagne or wine glass in hand out of anger. Man is one for theatrics. Come on.)

It was all over after the demon talking to you touched your face to move some hair behind your ear. Before you could even process what was happening, Harrlep was on top of the other demon, practically torturing him.

Once Raphael dismissed and sent him on his way, he grabbed you and took you to his room.

Mans is a pacer when he fears his emotions are too big to handle right then.

Once calmed down, especially by your words, he just turned to you and, with no hesitation, kissed you passionately.

Let's be honest: Haarlep is a man of business. He doesn't play around.

As extra reassurance, you wouldn't leave him for three weeks straight; his tail was wrapped positively around your thigh or waist, constantly teasing you and testing others.

Zevlor-

I'm not going to lie. In my first playthrough, I punched Zevlor, so I can confidently say Mans is a big baby. He plays it off cool, but once his ego is hurt, he tanks Man, and it's so cute.

Watching the male tiefling flirt with you was literally hell on earth. Might as well have Avernus burning around him as you laugh at that stupid demon's jokes.

This party to celebrate your victory was supposed to be a night for you and him to sneak off and consummate your relationship before the long journey through the shadowlands. (If you know, you know, and I cry every time)

Man is more of a self-deprecating jealous than a wrathful jealous. So, unlike Haarlep, who just waits to explode, Zevlor is coming up with 1000 reasons why the other demon is so much better for you.

Zevlor becomes withdrawn and makes his way to his maps and equipment for the expedition, no longer interested in the party.

If he can't see his heart get broken, how can his heart get broken, you know?

However, what this man loved about you most was that you picked up on so many subtle clues. So, with little time between his self-deprecating and abandonment of the party, you were at his side.

The man couldn't even look you in the eyes. He was so sure he would fuck something up.

After some gentle coaxing, he finally listens to you and holds you so gently, kissing you fiercely and passionately.

(He may leave a few hickies or ten to really make sure everyone knew you were taken)

While on the road to Baldur's Gate, he never took his tail from around your waist. He kept you close and secure next to him.

God forbid the tiefling from the party even remotely gets too close to you. That tail might go to other places to prove a point.

Raphael-

He is far too prideful and egotistical to physically show anyone or anything in general how upset he is that another man is talking to you.

He would rather burn in hell under his father's thumb than admit he is jealous.

He knows at the end of the day, you are his. I mean, he had your soul. The first night you two consummated, he took it from you.

That didn't stop the nagging feeling he had watching you laugh, smile, and, in his eyes, flaunt what was his.

Being prideful, Raphael's approach to removing the threat was simple. He simply reminded everyone how powerful he really was.

All it took was a quick interjection into the conversation and not so-subtly informing the lingering demon about how his father was a king of hell.

Once the threat was taken care of, he turned to you. Oddly enough, with a simple, commanding look, you knew it was time to retreat to your shared quarters.

Before you could make it through the door fully, you were slammed against a wall, mouth covered by his.

By the end of the night, you had more marks covering your body than you cared to admit, but damn, at least everyone knew who owned you.

After that incident, at every gala or event he held, you were to sit on his lap with his tail wrapped firmly around your body.

If you behaved well, he would use his tail elsewhere, too.

I had a lot of fun writing this; when I first joined Tumblr many moons ago, this wasn't a huge thing, so this is my first time writing one of these. I really hope I didn't disappoint. Thank you so much to everyone from Annons to other blogs for the help and support in beginning my journey to writing! I appreciate all of you!

#baulders gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #raphael bg3 #raphael #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #zevlor x reader #bg3 zevlor #haarlep #bg3 haarlep #bg3 raphael #house of hope #raphael the cambion

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multiverse-menagerie · 7 months

Note

Perhaps could I request the bg3 companions going through Tav's sketchbook and finding that it's riddled with drawings of each companion, but especially them. Maybe it's the early stages of a romance or smthn?

I’ve been slowly spinning this around in my head, yessss

Gale

At first, Gale thinks journal is a book you’ve left for him. He’s not really one to go through your personal belongings after all. But upon opening the journal and finding swaths of drawings of your party and him, he’s thrown a little off kilter

He returns it to you immediately (read as: he fights with himself for a good ten minutes to stop looking at the sketches of himself and return the book to you) but asks you about your hobby

Listens very intently to however much you’re willing to tell him. Gale would ask, “are those me? or do you know some other roguishly handsome wizard with a penchant for fancy robes?”

He’s trying Very Hard to downplay his feelings about the whole matter. He’s not used to being the admired one…but he’s certainly not complaining

Shadowheart

As she hopes everyone will respect her need for privacy, Shadowheart strives to do the same for others. Despite many opportunities to peak at your journal, she resists and eventually asks you about it directly, but with no pressure

shy!Tav, nervously showing off the sketches and trying to gloss over how many of these drawings are of Shadowheart - after a deep breath, Shadowheart ignores the blush rising on her skin and asks about some of the other drawings

Confident!Tav, flipping through the sketches and happily showing off the images of Shadowheart especially - Shadowheart flusters, sputters out a near incomprehensible jumble of words and rushes off

Either way, the moment lives Rent Free(tm) in her head and she hopes you’ll show her the journal again

Astarion

STUNNED. like, almost drops your sketch in surprise bc wait. Holy shit. Is that him??

recovers smoothly, plays down the way his adrenaline has spiked

It does not matter how good the portraits of him are, sketches or fully finished drawings, he is Memorizing those pages

If you draw him with any soft expression, he’ll point out that image to you and be like “I think you’ve messed up on that particular reaction, dear” (that’s how he looks at you, shh don’t tell him)

Wyll

He spots you watching him one day as he’s training, your eyes flipping between him and the journal in front of you. Eventually he gives in and wanders over, inquiring about what you’re up to

when you show him the spread, sketches of him doing swordplay (and a few close headshots) - Wyll is both very impressed and very flustered

He compliments your skills, though jokingly questions the subject of your drawings. Certainly someone else would make a more attractive drawing, he says, gesturing vaguely to his mismatched eyes and newly acquired horns

Is surprised by the fierce frown you give him, the disapproval in your voice at his suggestion. You’re drawing him for a reason. Thoroughly chastised and a little embarrassed, Wyll thanks you (he doesn’t elaborate beyond that but you get the idea)

Karlach

Karlach is too afraid to touch anything that seems even vaguely flammable, but she’s seen you scribbling into your journal on many an occasion. Eventually her curiosity gets the better of her and she asks you about it

If you’re hesitant to show her, she’ll back off…but kind of pout like a little kid. Not in an attempt to make you feel bad but just bc that’s who she is. If and when you decide to show her the sketches, she’s super hyped

Jaw on the floor. She’s not got the patience or skills for drawing, not really, but your talent blows her away. And then she sees the drawings of her and she’s like - mouth open, heart eyes

jokes about how you’ve drawn her, with a huge grin on her face the whole time “how long have you been staring at my thighs to get the drawing this accurate? should I get a new outfit for your next page?”

Lae’zel

She’s never really cared much for her appearance - don’t get me wrong, she thinks she looks great but she’s never really been the one to stare at her reflection or anything

But Lae’zel sees herself in your sketches, drawings of her in softer states, in relaxation, and shes…surprised

Part of her bristles - she’s a strong warrior on a mission, she doesn’t need you seeing her as soft. But a different part of her…eases. Relaxes. You see her as an individual worth affection.

Lae’zel wouldn’t comment much about the drawings, but she would ask to sit and watch you draw, if it wouldn’t bother you. Your skilled hands, the way your brow furrows as you draw. Yes. She likes that.

Halsin

At first, Halsin is simply impressed by your talents. Artistry has always been something he’s enjoyed, no matter the form, so he’s happy to get to see your work

When he comes across the pages devoted to him, he’s thrown off a little. He’s used to being admired, if we’re being honest. As long as he’s lived and as many people he’s been with, it happens. But he’s not used to…this. Being part of the art but without any expectation of him.

Traces a finger over the lines of his face - somehow you’ve captured a look that makes him seem so…heroic. Is that how you see him? Warmth feels his chest and he goes to seek you out

You don’t get much of an answer, when you ask why he’s scooped you and paying you extra attention, nuzzling his face into your hair

#baldurs gate x reader #gale x reader #astarion x reader #karlach x reader #wyll x reader #Lae’zel x reader #halsin x reader #shadowheart x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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aerynwrites · 7 months

Text

Longing

Halsin x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.

Part 2

The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.

Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.

The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.

“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”

The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.

You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.

“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”

Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.

“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.

“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”

The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”

You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.

You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”

Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.

“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.

Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”

You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”

You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.

And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.

“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.

His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.

“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.

Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“

You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”

You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.

———

The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.

You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.

But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.

And he flirted with you.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.

Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.

You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.

More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.

Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.

You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.

Indulge, for once.

You want to. Gods do you want that.

You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.

You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.

Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.

Others. Plural.

And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.

Not until now.

You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.

You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.

Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.

“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”

You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.

You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”

Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.

“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”

You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.

———

The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.

But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.

“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.

You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.

“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”

The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”

You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”

Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”

His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.

“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”

His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.

He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.

“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”

Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.

Right?

Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“

You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.

“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.

His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.

“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”

Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.

“Can I kiss you, my heart?”

Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.

You nod. “Please-“

The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.

It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.

Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.

Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.

He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.

You’re breathless.

Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.

“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.

“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.

Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.

“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.

Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.

“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.

You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.

You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 Halsin #Halsin #baldurs gate Halsin #baldurs gate 3

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gothy-froggy · 8 months

Text

Astarion Headcanons

Fluff dating headcanons

This man deserves it. Astarion x Gn! Reader

(Bg3 Astarion spoilers?) + not proofread

As we know that Astarion is not used to this kind of treatment or care. For 200 years he used his body to lure people for his master. And was treated poorly on top of that. This is something he isn’t used to.

Small physical touch

A simple squeeze of the arm, putting a hand over his, Astarion craves for it.

They’re so simple, yet, holds so much meaning.

Such pure and innocent intentions behind them. Intimate, not sexually. Just so much emotion and such a strong connection from a simple touch.

He likes it.

Even a simple, quick or a lingering kiss is just so nice. Astarion has kissed, slept, and held many, but not like this. It’s quite exciting.

The feeling of his beloved’s finger softly running through his hair got a sigh of content out of Astarion. His eyes fluttered closed. The way the their fingers goes through his curls, barely scratching his scalp. It was peaceful.

This was peaceful.

“Star.” They whispered. Astarion opened his eyes. He sat up from laying on their lap, facing his partner. A shaky breath aired out as his eyes shut as they placed their hands on his cheeks, brushing along his jawline. No words were exchanged. None had to.

Their feelings, thoughts, and love for each other were so loud despite not one opened one’s mouth.

No words could describe how much they cared for another.

Astarion grew to return such acts with the intention and his feelings being present. It was difficult at first. It was…odd for him. It was either awkward in his mind, or the spiral to disgust and the feeling of tainted leaking through the cracks of his heart and mind, perhaps his soul at well.

But the reassurance from his lover always pulled him back.

Nicknames

The nickname given to him? Star. It was definitely a shock to him hearing that as his nickname. He can’t help but be a little flustered.

He loves it. Astarion would live for it. Astarion loved it even more once he figured out the reason why his lover calls him Star.

Of course, he calls his dear, love, treasure, other sweet pet names, but the one his love gave him doesn’t seem to be defeated.

The night was chilling as the stars twinkled, dancing in the moonlight. Astarion sat on a big rock with his lover. Their gaze focused on the balls of light in the dark sky. Astarion’s was locked onto them.

“Do tell, my dear. Why ‘Star’ as my nickname?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Their eyes meets his, a small, gentle smile appearing on their face.

“Your name has star in it. A-s-t-a-r-i-o-n. Stars twinkle, they’re beautiful , like you.” Astarion let out a huff. Perhaps a small scoff.

“Well, I am beautiful.” A charming smile plastered over his face. His lover laughed, placing a hand over his as they leaned forward.

“You’re my star.” They whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. Astarion paused, processing their words and the simple touches.

“You really are full of surprises.” Astarion whispered.

‘Their Star.’ He thought. It brought swirls of warmth inside his chest

Astarion’s love for the pet name Star becomes addictive. He gets slightly annoyed and disappointed when his partner doesn’t call him Star.

Hell, his treasure could even make him beg to be called Star if they wanted to.

It honestly irritates him how much he enjoys the silly little pet name. They really don’t hold much value or worth anything…or is that him and enslavement to Casador for centuries?

Nether the less, his love is here to show him what real is. What true love really is.

Perhaps the pet name is a spark of light for him.

His comfort (lover’s scent and warmth)

Nothing is more precious than holding someone with such passion. True passion.

Astarion struggled most on this. Surprising as it is, but the comfort involves holding someone. Being so close to their body with trust, letting your guard down,

But getting comfortable with having comfort is the most troublesome.

The fear of it being taken away becomes dread.

His nightmares are over, but they still plague his mind, making it hard to break through and open up. After a while, he did. He regrets not being able to break through before.

Whether it was a nightmare, or the utter crave of affection and his comfort, he always gets it. Astarion creeps into the tent, sliding an arm under his love’s, wrapped around their waist and pulling them close.

He presses his face into their neck, taking a slow and small sniff. Just smelling their scent, not just their blood, brought so much warmth and comfort. The warmth, the feeling of their body made all his stress move away. Astarion smiled to himself, pressing a lingering kiss on his lover’s shoulder, before whispering:

“Wherever you go, wherever you are..” Astarion paused, hesitant to continue as the fear and feeling of disgust creeps back in. Trying to pull him back to what he knows. Yet he fights it. The arm around their waist caused a small squeeze as he took a shaky breath before continuing.

“Is forever my home.” He whispered, forcing them out and choking over his words out.

“You are my true home.”

Maybe, just maybe, the fight for something new is worth it.

#fan fic writing #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion headcanons #bg3 x reader #fluff #astarion fluff

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lovelybluebirdie · 4 months

Text

Something to care for

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion seeks comfort when he is terrified of losing you to his former master.

Word Count: 2,1k

hurt/comfort, angst and fluff

[ AO3 ]

Fleeting glances across the tavern, jovial laughter followed by a touch to his arm, and Astarion has exactly what he needs. Your trust builds fast over his charming words, so you agree to accompany him to the mansion without doubting his intentions.

Astarion dissociates, follows his usual routine as he has done for over hundreds of years by now, while you remain blissfully unaware that you are already caught in his trap.

The scene feels painfully familiar, and yet it doesn't at all.

Uneasiness spreads over him.

No, this doesn't seem right.

Why are you here?

The next moment you lie on his old master’s bed, your eyes closed and shallow breaths emitting your lungs. A dark silhouette is bending over you, its mouth glued to your neck.

Cazador.

Panic creeps down Astarion's spine.

No, this isn't right at all.

His thoughts start to race. He needs to free you from this monster's claws - now.

Cazador looks up as his lips form a hideous grin, blood running from his chin and spluttering on your motionless body.

“A very pleasant bouquet you have brought to me, boy. But you know of that already, do you not?”

Astarion freezes.

The malice in his voice shatters his ribs with the blow of an axe.

He wants to scream, to get you away from here, but his body doesn’t respond.

Suddenly the whole scene shifts and Astarion finds himself with his fangs buried deep inside your neck, warm liquid pouring in his mouth while your hand rests loosely on his nape.

An unbearable dread rises in him.

He desperately tries to tear himself away, to stop feeding on you, but an invisible force holds him down, leaving it impossible to let go.

He must be going mad.

“You sought out to drink from thinking creatures, did you not? Go on then, lavish yourself on her blood! Bleed her dry.”

Cazador’s command unleashes like a fist to his skull.

Astarion knows that he is enjoying this, and it makes him sick.

He concentrates back on you, frantically looking for a way to get you out of this.

“It's alright, Astarion…” you whisper. “I know this isn’t… you.” You seem on the verge of fainting, the hand that rested in his hair slipping, your pulse weakening.

The fondness in your words almost breaks him.

He wishes to plead, to offer himself - to give Cazador everything he demands, if only he would allow you to leave unharmed, but he can’t speak.

Instead, he feels Cazador’s violent grip push him down, ramming his teeth deeper in your neck.

Astarion’s eyes wet and his body trembles while he’s obliged to swallow more of your blood. The thick liquid spills over his lips onto your neck, drips to your hair and paints the collar of your blouse.

Astarion knows that he’s hurting you, killing you, yet he has no control over his own doing. He can't stop, even if his whole body longs for nothing more than to release you.

His senses start to dull, colourful dots exploding before his eyes, while he’s unable to form a single coherent thought anymore, entirely helpless to this monstrosity he inflicts on you.

“What’s the matter, boy?” his former master taunts with a malignant chuckle and positions himself so that Astarion has to look at him. “Isn’t this what you craved? To be free of me, to do as you please?"

His laugh evolves to a gruesome crescendo, echoing through the dreary halls that Astarion once called his home - mocking him, a punishment for his disobedience.

Astarion summons his remaining strength to banish Cazador from his mind and fixates back on you.

He must save you, now, otherwise you will -

Astarion's lungs are on fire. His fangs ache, and his chest is bursting.

He grasps his throat and chokes as he remembers the taste of your blood in his mouth.

Gods, what has he done to you?

He takes a moment to perceive his surroundings.

This is not Cazador’s mansion, he realises, but your shared tent in the camp you made near Rivington.

The essence of his nightmare returns with agony: his fangs piercing your neck, Cazador’s order to bleed you dry, while you were completely defenceless against his torment. The image is almost too much to bear.

With haste, he begins to fumble the woollen fabric of his bedroll in search of your warm body. He has to ensure that you are alive - that he didn’t hurt you.

Then his hand finds your wrist and he stops in his motion. He pushes the fright that shrouds him aside and feels for your pulse, careful not to wake you. There it is - a constant throb at his fingertips.

Despite the evidence that the violent scene was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, he can’t bring himself to fully accept that there wasn’t an actual threat - that you are safe. Yet he has no desire to worry you with his musings, so he starts to slowly pull his hand away, before he notices that it’s already too late. You sit up beside him, rubbing sleep from your tired eyes.

You look so adorable that his chest grows tight.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” Your brow furrows when your gaze meets his, concern lingers in your voice.

Astarion opens his mouth, only to press it shut again as he feels hot tears forming in his eyes. He swallows hard. He wants to reassure you that it’s nothing, to tell you that you should go back to sleep, but the ferocity he committed in his nightmare robs him of any speech.

You give him an understanding expression and lift your blanket. “Do you want to come over here?”

He nods and shifts towards you.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. Astarion sinks his head onto your chest and listens carefully to your heartbeat - to make sure you are truly unscathed. That he didn't kill you, didn't bleed you dry - that he has not become like Cazador.

The pulsing sound flows in a soothing rhythm.

He closes his eyes and inhales your familiar scent. The weight that is crushing his lungs slowly begins to dissolve.

You are so warm, he thinks, so comforting, always so affectionate.

“It’s alright,” you breathe and rest your lips at his temple. “He can’t hurt you now.”

There is no need to ask how you know what haunts him, you simply do, and Astarion buries his face deeper in your chest, grasps the fabric of your tunic and lets out a deep sigh. A few silent tears he has tried to hold back spill from his eyes, dampening your clothes.

Your hands draw circles on the small of his back, up to his shoulder blades, until they move to his hair and tenderly stroke along his ears.

He concentrates on your touch. You are here, with him, unharmed - he didn’t hurt you.

A calmness enfolds and for the first time since he woke he allows himself to relax.

Astarion suddenly wonders if he ever had something like a home, a real home, somewhere he felt safe - not Cazador’s mansion, the place from his nightmare, where he endured nothing but torture and cruelty.

Something he could choose for himself - willingly. Not something he was forced to, but something he wanted.

For centuries he was used to the pain he suffered under Cazador’s rule, but you've proven how different his life can be. Through the time he spends with you, he's learned that he is valued as a person. You make him feel seen - show him compassion and patience, despite him missing the words at times.

You give him honest, loving affection, without any vile intent or in expectation of getting something in return.

You are the only one who is like that. Who genuinely cares for him, who loves him. No one was ever kind to him, only you. No one has a heart like that.

Maybe a home isn’t a place, he thinks, but a person.

He feels your fingers twisting gently around his curls, while he listens to the sound of your beating heart, and wishes to never let go of you.

But there is still Cazador and the Rite of Profane Ascension to overcome, and his mansion is barely a tenday away from now.

Astarion wants to shove the thought aside, but knows he can’t. Not when there is so much at stake - when you give him so much to care for.

He envisions the ancient ritual Cazador has planned.

If he was to complete the rite himself, would he become even more powerful than his old master? Would this newfound power offer you protection - keep both of you safe?

But what if you came to harm once you entered his residence? Hells, what if it would be his fault?

The fear of losing you clings its relentless hooks back to his core.

Astarion sinks deeper into your arms and sighs.

No. He cannot lose you - not to the Absolute, not to Cazador or any other madness you have to encounter along your way.

His shoulders tense, leading you to squeeze them fondly.

“He won’t win, Astarion,'' you vow with the determination that Astarion knows too well by now. “We will beat him.”

At first he wants to scold you, point out how naive you were to think it would be an easy task to confront his past tormentor, but instead he pauses to consider.

He remembers the foes you've come across on your journey. There have been gruesome, vigorous creatures among them, and yet you were able to vanquish them in the end.

Have you gathered enough strength to destroy a powerful enemy like Cazador, though?

For a second, Cazador’s liveless body appears in front of Astarion’s inner eye.

Maybe, there was a real chance…

After all, to ensure that both of you will be safe - truly safe - Cazador must be ended, one way or another.

“Is that so?” Astarion clears his throat and frowns. “Well, when you sound so resolute I find myself actually imagining us succeeding.”

Your features soften as you lean forward and put a kiss to his brow.

“I know we will,” you reply confidently. “Besides, for some reason I was declared the leader of our little group, so I'd suggest you better put some trust in my word.”

“I’m afraid being the leader of this group full of weirdos is hardly something to be proud of, love,” Astarion murmurs against your neck.

“That’s rich, coming from the weirdest of the bunch,” you tease as you tousle through his curls. “You’re a rogue who’s terrified of clowns - shall I go on?”

Astarion snorts at your remark. “I'm not terrified of them!” he protests with a pout. “It's just.. They make me uneasy, alright? And they're not original - or funny. Honestly, I’d rather witness a goblin mating ritual than any of those wretched clown shows again.”

He removes your hand from his hair to intertwine your fingers with his. Then he recalls the image of the clown you visited at the circus the other day and his face turns into a grimace.

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know for a fact that you were absolutely petrified the moment you saw Dribbles.”

“That wasn’t even a regular clown - that beast was also a shapeshifter!” Astarion exclaims in feigned bewilderment.

You raise an eyebrow and wait for a moment, leaving Astarion curious, until you pin him down to tickle him all over.

“Stop it, you cheeky thing!” Astarion presses between his laughs while he tries to shelter his most sensitive parts from your ruthless fingers.

When he eventually manages to roll on top of you and grab your wrists, you look at him lovingly and catch your breath. He feels the remaining knots in his chest come loose.

Then your face turns serious again. “I promise you, we will beat him.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Astarion states and clicks his tongue, before his lips curl up to a genuine smile. “But perhaps I’ll remind you of that promise when the time comes.”

“By all means, I hope you do,” you assure and return his smile, your thumb softly brushing his cheek.

You have a rare talent to relieve the tension, he notices. To make him feel light - to make him laugh even, a real, honest laugh, despite the horrors that linger on his mind of late.

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose and lifts from your chest, resting his body against your back and draws you in a close embrace. Then he buries his face in your hair and presses a kiss to your neck, relishing your pleasant warmth.

A sudden fire rises inside him.

The thought of facing Cazador remains scary, terrifying even, but somehow with you, he senses there is a viable chance to defeat him at last.

You give him something to care for, and he will do everything in his might to protect you - both of you, his home.

He won’t lose you, and he won’t lose this.

Masterlist

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twi-liight · 8 months

Note

Hi! I suffer from Baldur's Gate brainrot. I just stumbled upon your blog and love your writing! Could you do some Astarion, Gale and Karlach headcanons for taking care of Tav after they're badly injured in battle?

Reckless Attack ❣

Grieve, weep, and agonize over a corpse - but know that death is never final in Faerun. The burden of injuries will instead always be present: pain is eternal, no matter how numb. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Karlach/Tav. ❥ TW: Descriptive mentions of injuries and gore. ❥ Act 2 spoilers. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you!

An Absolutist cult has gathered deep in the bowels of the forests of Rivington. Nothing out of the ordinary... Other than the sheer numbers they possess, creating a dense population of Absolute extremists gathered in stone ruins.

Adventuring parties that dare to end their machinations perished slowly and painfully. Their corpses - what is left of them - are displayed pierced from the gnarled branches of the trees, where they bleed out on the forest ground.

Tav, Astarion, Gale, and Karlach had a plan: throw a barrel full of smoke bombs into the middle of the ruins, firebolt, and profit. Except things didn’t go according to plan (they never do). That barrel was supposed to be at their rendezvous point, but the cultists found it before they did and thought it a gift from their Goddess.

Trapped in hiding, Tav decided to do what they do best: attack.

A potent necromancy curse was successfully cast on Tav, negating any healing spells thrown their way.

Well.

Fuck.

ASTARION

"As always, you refuse to listen to me. And now look at you: a mess. What did I say about running afool to the vanguard?" Astarion does not wait for their response. “Don't do it. It is smarter to be in the shadows in this instance. And what did you do? Ran alone into a quarry of cultists with no sense of self-preservation!”

Anger, pure anger, is present in his voice, sharpening his typical melodic lilt into daggers. If he cared about the present company - Shadowheart, Halsin, and Gale crowded into a tent, surrounding Tav upon their cot - it is nonexistent in his wine-red eyes. They could get lost in those bloody depths for hours. But not now. Not when seething rage roils off of his body like a cloud of darkness.

They look away.

"Nothing to say for yourself, darling?” he mocks. Astarion’s visage twists into a sneer, sharply turning his face away from them. He finds an unused rag, wets it, wrings it of excess water, and then moves past Shadowheart. “Allow me,” he murmurs to her, gentler.

Shadowheart’s inquisitive green eyes understand the depth of the situation immediately. She sighs, clearly annoyed he has taken over her job, but is dissuaded by Astarion’s next string of words: “I’ll clean them up. Magic and healing and all that wonderful nonsense are not necessarily my area of expertise. A firebolt here and there, surely, but I wouldn’t know where to begin with a curse that... Negates healing magic.”

“Sure,” Shadowheart replies, eyes flicking to Tav. Worry is evident over her features. Worry hangs heavy around everyone. Emerging out of battles victorious and grievously injured is commonplace; nothing a mass healing word couldn't fix along with a good night’s rest. Open wounds would be closed scars, ailments would be cured, and broken bones would be unbroken. Rinse and repeat.

This time, it is different.

They, and they alone, were cursed with a necromancy spell that makes all healing magic useless to their wounds.

Their wounds are appalling: Broken ribs evident with the pain swelling in their chest and labored breathing, purple and black blotchy bruises from the hammer blows they took to the shoulder, an open laceration across their chest, their ankle snapped in two, burns on their left leg crawling up their thigh. Blood all over their face from their own and from the enemies they felled.

“Hey, it’s fine,” they wheeze out. "Nothing I can't handle. The cultists are down and dead and buried - everything else can come after."

Hesitantly, Gale opens his mouth to reply, but is abruptly cut off by Astarion snapping out: "No."

"No," they echo. Their brows furrow.

"What a saint you are," Astarion snarls. His lips are down-turned, fangs bared as he speaks, but his ministrations upon their face are soothing. Gently, he rubs off the blood with a cool washcloth, eyes focusing on the task at hand as he cannot bear to look at them.

"Throwing yourself into the heat of battle like that, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Tell me, my dear, do you enjoy watching rational fly past you when you make your impulsive decisions?"

They flush with humiliation and hurt. Broken and battered, they dig their elbow into the cot to prop themselves up and face Astarion head-on, but Halsin presses a hand into their shoulder and pushes them down.

Fuck. Their head spins in circles.

"You're one to talk. Impulsivity is your middle name; you said yourself that planning is not your forte." Even raising their voice hurts but they do it anyway. Their eyes, threatening to slip into oblivion, flood with frustrated tears. "What the fuck is your problem, Astarion?"

"Must I really spell it out for you, sweetheart? You go around, telling everyone exactly what they need to hear. You tell them they aren't alone. That you will help them, that you will ensure they see the future that they want." The words are venom: petty and spiteful and yearning to be understood. "You," Astarion hisses out, "are so blind."

Tempers rising to fever pitch, Halsin tenses from his spot at the foot of the cot. From the corner of Tav's eye, they see Gale murmur something to him, something like, Let this play out. Astarion would never hurt them.

"I am the only one who will take the first step!" Tav cries. The words explode out of their broken chest faster than they realize, flying like an arrow straight toward Astarion's unbeating heart. "I risk my life - every day - for all of YOU! For all the people that need me! For all that I am because-"

"Because what?" He taunts. "Because it is the right thing to do? Look at yourself, Tav! You are on death's door if not for everyone in this room!"

"Because no one else will do it! Not anyone in this damn camp cares enough to- to help the people we could-" They cough violently, but they slam their elbows into the cot to prop themselves up. No one stops them this time as they meet Astarion's burning eyes. "No one cares but ME-"

"WE care about you!" Louder. Vicious. Astarion's voice splits in the air in two in one fell swoop, striking them down like lightning into silence.

He's breathing heavily, panting, as if exhausted. The adrenaline pumping in his veins is begging him to swoop Tav up and run away with them. Away from all of this bullshit and into hiding within the shadows. Maybe the Underdark. Maybe the Shadowcursed Lands. They can descend into madness together.

At least there, they will be safe.

"I care about you," Astarion chokes out before he can stop himself. "More than anything. Do you know that? I hope you know that."

Their mouth forms the words to reply, Of course I do, but it doesn't leave their throat. Instead, it stays stuck there like a fluttering butterfly, forced into silence. It hurts to speak. It hurts to talk. It hurts to see him like this.

He calls out their name so quietly it could have been a trick of the wind.

"Astarion," they plead.

He shakes his head, stubborn and unconvinced. "You don't owe these people anything. You certainly do not owe them your life for their burdens. I," he breathes out, voice as shaky as a leaf in the wind. He screws his eyes shut and clenches his fist around the rag, where their blood stains his palm.

"I almost lost the sun of my life today."

When Astarion opens his eyes, they are steeled with resilience and fury as they gaze into theirs. It is hypnotic. It is lonely. They yearn to comfort him.

"It will not happen again."

GALE

"Easy," Gale murmurs, a strong arm laying them down in his tent. Soft blankets and pillows meet their back, and the cushy grass beneath makes for a cool and comforting sleep. Their breath stutters, but Gale gazes at them so fondly as he pushes their hair from their face that the pain eases.

He does not miss their labored breathing. "Shhh shh shh. I've got you. Just focus on me."

His thumb lingers on the swell of their cheek. His eyes flutter close. A gentle glow of purple surrounds him, and eventually, that gentleness extends to Tav. The agonizing, piercing sensation in their chest numbs into a cool, muted nothingness. They gasp - then exhale in relief, slower than their panicky, short breaths from before.

"That's it," he encourages. "Well done, my love. How are you feeling?"

"So-so," they reply. Their voice aches and croaks, but for some reason, it makes Gale smile.

Oh no. He knows that look.

They study his handsome, tired face, looking for any signs of alarm. Is he hungry? Does he need to feed on another artefact? Was there an envoy telling them they missed another Absolutist hideout? Did they miss something? Did they do something wrong?

No. Nope. "Enough of that." He takes their hand, kisses their knuckles, then sighs. "You're the last person who should be worrying about someone. Such a pest, hm? Always buzzing around me like I'm seconds away from disappearing in front of your eyes..."

"You are," they say. Their brows furrow, and they pant out, "The-- your burden to carry, the--"

"The orb, I know. I know." His heart twists. It aches. He failed Mystra before and that was painful. But this is another subject entirely; it couldn't come close. Watching sheer heartbreak in their expression because of him? Oh, Goddess forgive him, he has failed them.

Gale can scarcely celebrate his victory, too. He undid the damned curse that affected Tav's ability to receive magic. The necromancy spell was so potent that Tav rejected any healing spells thrown at them. Late into the hours of experimentation, he, Halsin, and Shadowheart considered allowing the effects to wither and die rather than exterminating it outright. It was Jaheira who told them it would be inefficient, because how long would they have to wait in camp while Tav rode out the effects of the curse? Ideally? Hours. But days? Weeks? Months?

He spent the long night following and feeling out the curse with the Weave. It was a complicated hex - a tangled knot of magic that had to be unwoven carefully, thread by thread. Every connotation, every intent was traced back to the heart of the curse, and he followed it with abandon.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble, then," they whisper.

"You should be," he jests. "Nearly made my heart collapse, seeing you like that."

The image is still burned into his mind. He can't stop thinking about it. His mortality has always been a dreadful afterthought pushed into the further recesses of his tadpole-addled brain, but was he so taken with Tav that he never realized how mortal they were, too?

No. No. Gale tightens his grip on their hand, giving them a comforting squeeze as they breathe in and out, in and out. It's not that he never realized how susceptible they are to death and danger. He just never wanted to confront it.

"You are changing the very premise of my life," he says softly. An exasperated chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head, adding, "as always. I don't know what I would have done if I actually lost you, back there." What wouldn't I do? "No scrolls of revivifies, no Withers to bring you back. I wouldn't be able to accept it."

He understands Ketheric Thorm all too well, now.

"Come here," they whisper. Gale lets their hands press into the back of his head. He thinks, absently, that he would let them do much of anything. In their care, he is no grand wizard with a plethora of achievements under his belt. No. He is as humble as the Weave itself, and their hands compose music and art for him to simply bear witness to.

They rest his head upon their chest, where his ear can listen to the comforting sound of their beating heart.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud thud.

"Good night, my love," Gale says, when their breathing evens and they have finally fallen into peaceful slumber. He does not sleep at all.

KARLACH

"Oh gods. Oh gods!" Karlach clasps Tav's left hand between hers, holding tightly and vowing to never let go. Their blood stains her hand and chest and clothes. It's everywhere. Sickly sweet and sticky, drawing all of her attention from the room to the sensation of it dripping down her skin.

They've lost so much blood. It's nauseating, like an unsettling reality has just settled in her stomach.

"Tav!" She exclaims, helpless and pathetic. "Why did you do that, you big idiot? You seriously could have gotten killed out there, why-- why aren't you..."

Responding? Where are their quips, their sass, their brightness she fell so fast and hard for? Tav lays there upon the cot, broken and battered. Karlach has seen the remains of her enemies after she has slaughtered them and has barely flinched. She can barely stomach the sight of them bloodied, bones twisted in the wrong way, bruises so purple they're as black as a chasm.

All they can do is breathe. Their eyes focus distantly above them to the roof of the tent, but nothing else.

Panic seizes her faster than she can control it. "Are they breathing?! Are they going to survive this?! Fuck," she growls, running a frustrated hand through her dark hair, matted with blood. "I should have made those sons of bitches suffer."

"Karlach," Shadowheart says, firm but gentle, her hands bloody too as she applied pressure down on Tav's wounds, "it was important that you returned them to camp as fast as you did. Sometimes, we do not have the luxuries to let our enemies die in pain."

Right. Right. Karlach watched an Absolutist barbarian slam his warhammer into Tav's back. Once to knock them down. Twice to keep them plastered on the ground. Once more to keep them unconscious. She saw red, then: the rage she slipped into boiled her veins so hot, the howl she let out sent her surroundings enemies into a frightened frenzy. She hacked her great axe into the barbarian over and over and over until he was nothing but a bloodied pulp of a man, more gore than flesh.

She scooped Tav up from the ground. Karlach never let anyone else touch them. She snarled and snapped at the others who tried to come too close and dead sprinted as fast as she could back to camp.

She heard their choked sobs of pain in her arms. They choked out her name, and Karlach couldn't offer them much of anything other than an, "We're going home, bubs, just hang on. 'Kay? You just focus on me."

"Can I stay here?" She begs Shadowheart. "I won't get in the way. Just let me hold their hand, please."

Shadowheart exchanges a conflicted glance at Halsin. He nods, and she sighs. "Fine," she says. "But - I need you to stand to the side for now. You can hold their hand after we're done figuring out how to undo this curse."

"A fine specimen of a curse, really," Gale adds, his hand curled under his chin. "I'm almost impressed."

"I would be too," huffs Shadowheart, "if our reckless leader wasn't caught up in this mess. Really, what were you thinking?"

"Right?" Karlach shoves off into the corner of the tent, doing her best to keep herself as small and as out-of-the-way as possible. Tears flood her eyes, and she chokes out, "Of all the things to do, why did it have to be that? I thought you said you trusted me! To have your back! I have your back, don't I? Don't I?"

"Of course you do," Halsin croons. He hooks his finger into a bottle of salve, and spreads it on Tav's burns. Tav visibly winces and tenses, whimpering in pain.

"Stop whatever you're doing right now!" Karlach wails. "You're hurting them! I'll kill you, Halsin, I swear it!"

Gale exchanges a look with Shadowheart. He ponders deeply for a moment as Karlach sobs devastatingly behind them. He opens his mouth, then shuts it promptly.

"Just say it," Shadowheart urges impatiently.

"We should play a game," he suggests. "The quiet game."

"No way," Karlach hiccups. "I'm dogshit at that game. Anyway, focus on Tav or I'll gut you, seriously."

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x you #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #astarion x tav #gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x you #karlach x tav #shadowheart #halsin #halsin is always just there. like. yeah ok guys. whatever

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world-of-shadows-and-music · 6 months

Text

Male Companions Responding To Your Pregnancy Announcement

Here are some headcannons I have for the Male Companions + Zevlor responding to your's/Tav's pregnancy announcement. I have a few more ideas I want to write out for the week so we will see how that goes.

Wyll

Legit might start crying when you tell him you’re expecting.

He smiles so big and bright before scooping you up in his arms and spinning you in a circle.

He is (carefully) rubbing his face against your stomach and whispering to the little baby bump.

He will not let you do anything on your own once you have the smallest of bumps.

He understands you don’t need his help, but he will offer it no matter what.

Once you get later on in your pregnancy, he is constantly rubbing your belly and telling them stories of his adventures as the Blade of Frontiers.

Once you get close to your due date, he will not leave your side cause he doesn’t want to miss anything.

He is there to hold your hand and help you anyway he can when you go into labor. Whispering how well you’re doing and that you are almost there.

Once the baby is there and in his arms, he melts. He doesn’t want to let them go.

Seeing you holding the little baby is his favorite thing.

“Oh darling. You have done so wonderfully.” Looking down at the little child, his child, wrapped in blankets and sleeping peacefully in his arms. “You have given me everything I could ever hope for.”

Astarion

He has heightened senses due to being a vampire so he can smell something different about you long before you tell him, but he doesn’t know what it up.

He thinks you’re playing some sick joke when you first tell him you’re expecting.

He just can’t wrap his head around it at first, but you wake up to his hands on your belly and whispering softly.

He comes around to the idea of you both having a child slowly but once he does, he is making sure you have the best healers available.

He even asks Shadowheart and Halsin to check on you and make sure everything is going well.

He becomes obsessed with your belly as it gets bigger, wanting to constantly be touching you in some way.

When he feels the first kick, he is startled but you see the largest grin on his face.

“Oh, a little fighter on our hands it seems.”

When you go into labor, he is afraid but he sits behind you and lets you push against him.

He is whispering into your ear how wonderful you are doing and letting you squeeze his hand.

Once he hears the baby cry for the first time, he has an out of body experience.

He is looking over your shoulder at the little one as they are placed in your arms, with you cooing down at them.

“Lover… They look perfect.” Reaching around you and letting them grab hold of his finger with his tiny hand. “I swear, I will always be there for them.”

Gale

He stares at you for a moment with wide eyes when you tell him before breaking out in a smile and scooping you into his arms.

He will want to announce to all your companions as soon as possible. He wants to share your good news with everyone.

He starts planning everything; the nursery, what colors everything should be, what foods he is going to be cooking for you through the pregnancy, everything you can think of.

Not to mention Tara is your little shadow and you’re pretty sure that she is reporting everything back to Gale.

He checks up on you multiple times a day, asking if you need anything or if you are craving everything for him to cook.

When you are laying in bed with him, he will be reading next to you and absently rubbing your belly.

When your belly gets bigger, he will want to have his arms wrapped around you while sleep with Tara curled up next to you.

He wants to be there when you give birth, he will not hear anything against it.

When you do go into labor, he is right by your side and wiping your forehead with a wet towel.

He honestly gets in the way of the midwife with his constant questions, but they force him to sit next to you.

When the baby is finally born, he wants to be the first to hold them and cradle them in his arms.

“Oh dearest, look at them. Look at how perfect you have done.” His soft smile and a twinkle in his eyes as he looked down at the child, wanting nothing more in the world.

Halsin

Halsin knows before you do that you’re pregnant. He picks up on the nausea, the tiredness, and he can smell it on you.

He waits for you to tell him though, giving you the privacy even though he is bursting at the seams with excitement.

He is making sure you’re eating enough and getting enough rest.

You wouldn’t even need to list a single finger if you didn’t want to.

He makes sure not to be too far from you if you would ever need him.

He starts whittling little toys for the child, including a little bear for them.

When your belly gets larger and you start complaining of back pain, he will come up behind you and put his hands under your belly to help relieve the pressure with his chin resting on your shoulder.

From the moment you two lay down for the night he is constantly talking to your belly and rubbing it.

The first time he feels a kick he will grin and give the spot a soft kiss.

He makes sure to keep an eye on everything for anything that could go wrong but he is not against you having additional healers to check up on you.

When you go into labor, he wants to help the midwife with anything they need; water, towels, just about anything.

He also wants to be the one who cuts the cord and clean the baby right after they are born.

He holds them in his arms and marvels at how small they are compared to him before he hands them to you.

“My Heart, just look at them.” Halsin looking down at the child, slowly running his finger down their cheek as they sleep. “Just look at what we have made together.”

Bonus: Zevlor (because I love him and no one can stop me)

When you tell him the poor man’s heart stops for a second.

He is a stuttering mess, hands reaching for you trembling, but he pulls you into his arms and holds you close kissing you.

A million and one doubts that he will be a good father go through his head, but he doesn’t doubt for a second that you will be a good parent.

You have to reassure him and give him a lot of love.

He goes out of his way to make sure you’re taken care of during your pregnancy.

You mention you want a snack or sweet? He will come home with like 10 of them.

You will wake up to him rubbing your belly as it gets bigger.

He eyes will be full of love and wonder when he feels them kick.

When you go into labor, he just can’t stand seeing you in pain and gets kicked out by the midwife.

But the moment he hears the first cry he will burst back into the room.

When the midwife hands the baby to him for the first time, he treats them as if they are made of glass.

“Oh sweetling.” Zevlor could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he held the newborn close to his chest watching them yawn. “You have given me everything.”

#bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #wyll x reader #wyll x tav #gale x reader #gale x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #tav x zevlor #zevlor x reader #pregancy

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